


Combustible

by grayorca, YearwalktheWorld



Series: Triverse [9]
Category: Castle Rock (TV), Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 10:07:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17681417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayorca/pseuds/grayorca, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YearwalktheWorld/pseuds/YearwalktheWorld
Summary: AU/Crossover. Don’t let minor problems evolve into bigger ones.





	Combustible

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scene from _Trifecta_. Takes place after chapter 14.
> 
> And don’t say we never paired anyone.

After the tension and drama of the last twenty-four hours, to arrive at a scene that was so wonderfully anticlimactic was very welcome. Once again, the weather was in their favor. The skies were blue and cloudless, the temperature an unseasonably-warm 33°. But maybe from the climate-controlled interior of the taxi it just looked nice.

Or it was - until yet another anxious whine sounded off.

Staring out at the world, Dennis kept his elbow propped against the window, fingers entangled in his hair. Reminding himself to be patient, despite the exasperated look currently on display, he glanced over and opened a comm line.

_You can stop fretting any time now, Nick._

(Connor had beaten him to the front passenger seat, again, the lowlife.)

Nick's hands were doing double time around each other, eyes wide and fearful as he kept looking out the window and then back to him. Another whine escaped at the words, as if he couldn't help but let dilute some anxiety that way. _I can't, I dunno what's gonna happen. What if it's something bad? I'm scared, Dennis._

 _If it were something bad, you don’t think CyberLife would’ve notified us by now?_ Scooting back in his seat, Dennis slumped into a more comfortable stance. _After what you went through - you’re jumping at shadows._

 _He’s not without cause, Dennis._ Without getting too supportive, Connor added his portion of the argument. _Last time we had cause to do this, Lieutenant Anderson was passed out on the floor next to a loaded revolver._

At that Nick let out a few whimpers in a row, clearly working himself up at the idea that the same could be happening to Hank at this time. Any composure he had won back since his shutdown attempt was totally absent. His eyes closed tightly, a few tears managing to squeeze through. _I don't want him to be hurt, Dennis, what if he's hurt? What if that's why he didn't come in, what if we never see him again?_

_We’re less than five minutes away. Relax. You’re starting to sound like Sumo._

Nick shook his head, seeming to just manage to bite back another whine before it could escape from him. Being compared to a dog, while not without merit, probably didn't feel too great. _I hope he's okay, then. And… we can see Sumo again._

Dennis held back a sigh as the taxi turned a corner. _Just because he isn’t answering us doesn’t mean there’s trouble. It could be something perfectly innocent. Maybe he just forgot to charge his phone?_

 _Maybe,_ Nick admitted, slumping back down in his own seat with some exhaustion. Constantly going from one extreme emotional high to the next was bound to be tiring. _I hope that's all. But then - why wouldn't he be at the station? I just w-want him to be okay._

_We’ll find out soon enough. There’s no sense worrying in the meantime._

But then, Nick never had been the most sensible of them. Not that he was ignorant or dumb, far from it, but there was such a thing as being too empathetic, too attuned to potential trouble.

Accessing the reset machine hadn’t helped. It had seemingly exacerbated the condition. To the point it had incapacitated him, rendered him paralyzed by fear and doubts.

To the point he thought self-destructing was the only way out.

Dennis didn’t like seeing it, even if it was their norm. And experiences of late only made it seem all the sadder.

Not like he could say anything to change it, though.

——-

_You have arrived. Please confirm -_

“Oh, shut up.” Hitting the door release, Dennis wrenched the sliding panel open. He wasn’t in the mood to hear it’s chirpy, impartial patter. And it wasn’t as though the cab could take offense. “See, Nick? What’d we tell you?”

Despite the reference of Sumo keeping him contained for a bit, Nick gave one final whine as he followed after him, letting out a relieved cry when he saw for himself. “Hank! You're okay!”

Holding the opened hood of his sedan up with both grease-stained hands, Hank Anderson spared them only a customary glower. “Yeah. Now that that’s out of the way, you mind holdin’ this for me? Goddamn screwbit took a trip down to Middle Earth.”

“Okay.” With nothing else to say, perhaps just happy the man was actually unharmed, Nick stepped forward without needing any more explanation, taking the hood from Hank and holding it open with one hand.

That was certainly one way to defuse the moment: to set it aside in favor of another job.

Mindful of the ice on the sideway, Dennis circled around to the other side of the driveway. Taxi paid off, Connor followed at his heels. “Car trouble, Lieutenant?”

As if it weren’t obvious. But humans appreciated being given chances to vent as needed.

“No. What was your first clue?” Leaning in with a penlight, Hank didn’t look up as he poked his way around various components.

“You were missed at the station.”

“And I thought I made it clear, I don’t keep regular hours.”

“You weren't answering your phone, either,” Nick frowned, leaning alongside him, but kept his hold on the hood. “We were worried for you. And… you've been showing up at the same time for awhile now.”

Mentioning his improved attendance didn’t seem to outwardly inspire the man. But he did spare a turn of the head. “Fuck, okay, maybe radio silence was stupid of me, but I didn’t think it’d bother you three so much you’d stage another - intervention. Kid, the tie? It’s tickling my - ear.”

Peering under the hood, Dennis snorted quietly, seeing just what was described - standing so close together, the loose garment was dangling against Anderson’s face.

“Oh. Sorry, Hank.” With his free hand, Nick simply tugged it off instead of tightening it, stuffing it into his pants pocket without a single thought of how it appeared, seemingly. “Better now.”

Eyes roving over the engine block, Connor seemed to pinpoint the problem. But rather than relay it, he asked another conversationally-redundant question: “Why haven’t you called for a tow truck?”

Without looking up, Anderson kept digging. “Because this is only the fourth time in as many winters I’ve had to put this back together. Why would I pay a mechanic to do what I already know how?”

“You could… get a taxi now, though?” Nick suggested, even though they all knew that was next to impossible. They would be here until the car was fixed, that much was certain. Hank could be right stubborn when he wanted. “But - you won't, I know.”

With a small _ah ha_ of success, Hank dug the missing screwbit out from between the engine block casing and the carburetor. “Yep. And I’m none the worse for it. You boys can head back to the office whenever you like.”

Well, how was that for gratitude?

Exchanging a look with Connor, Dennis crossed his arms. “You don’t… want to discuss anything else?”

Sparing him a glance, Hank stood up, wiping his hands on a oil-spotted rag. “Maybe. But you aren’t here on a social call. Doesn’t Fowler have a tip or three for you to chase down?”

“Just came to see if you were okay, really,” Nick mumbled, gently letting the hood of the car back down into its resting place. “Nothing else.”

Setting the rag on the hood, Hank took a second longer look at the lanky android. “What about you? Looks like CyberLife put things back together okay.”

“Feels - okay, now. I don't feel… shaky right now, or anything like that,” Nick said, looking like it was actually true, a rare moment of peace in otherwise grim times for him. “Was scared for you, getting here, so I'm glad you're okay.”

“As you keep - _saying_ ,” Dennis pointed out, not bothering to cover up the rough edge to his words. If no one else was going to say it, here he was. “I get that you went through a real trauma, Nick, but the world around you isn’t about to implode on top of it. Relax.”

Nick gave a start at his words, mouth opening and closing before he merely nodded. “I - I know, I won't - I know that won't happen.”

“So can you please _try_ and unwind, even just a bit? You need not remain so high strung every given minute.”

Brow furrowing, Hank’s hands stilled. “Dennis…”

Nick shook his head, arms crossing in what would look defensive if it wasn't just for his own comfort. “I try, I do, I'm - it's hard, sorry.” 

“So you keep saying. Not everything is such a matter of life and death. Why don’t you start learning the difference? It’d certainly be much less _irritating_ for those around you.”

Now there was a tirade much better suited to Connor than to himself.

But no one could say the feeling wasn’t becoming mutual.

“Sorry, I don't - mean to,” Nick stammered, clearly caught off guard by the suddenness of the unusually-hostile words directed at him, eyes automatically going down when he became uncomfortable with the talk. “Not trying to irritate you, sorry, Dennis, just - I’m sorry.”

“ _Dennis_.”

Equally caught off guard by the gruff snap, something he never typically gave Hank a reason to direct at him, the shorter android flinched.

“Lay off.”

Looking between them, reading the tension for what it was, Connor glanced at the closed front door of the house. Roused by the presence of more voices in the yard, a muffled whining and scratching sound indicated how Sumo was feeling about being left out of their meeting.

Nick looked towards the door as well, before back at Hank, clearly waiting for some instruction on what he should do in such a situation. “Can I… go see Sumo?”

“Perhaps you both oughta,” Anderson affirmed, without taking his eyes off of Dennis. The piercing stare seemed to flashfreeze his feet in place. “This guy and I, need to have a little talk, it seems.”

Giving Dennis his own look of unease, Nick nodded, beginning to trail over to the door of Hank's house with Connor following. That way, they were far out of the line of whatever was about to go down.

Hank waited until the door had closed behind them before wrenching the car’s hood up. “Hold this. I might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

Propping one hand against the hood’s corner, Dennis obliged - without asking what the man meant. He could figure out that much already.

Digging through the toolbox at his feet, Hank went back to work. “So just what the hell was that? You and Connor switch brains for a moment?”

It felt something akin to what the man described. But Dennis didn’t typically cater to the urge. It was there, yes, and had become steadily more noticeable in recent days, but wasn’t everyone entitled to a little outburst now and then?

Especially after attending the scenes they had? After what had - _almost_ happened?

Dennis picked a random rust patch to stare at, trying to detach from the uneasy tide of thoughts. Keeping them balanced felt like trying to stand flat on a spinning carousel, not let himself be pulled to one side by centrifugal force. “No, sir. I… I lapsed, for a moment.”

Hank let out an unimpressed sigh, raising an eyebrow at him as he did so. It was as if he had heard the excuse before, and it didn’t fly the first time, either. “You lapsed, huh? Well… that make you feel some sort of good, blowin’ up on him like that?”

Maybe his partners knew what shame felt like.

By the hot flush of his cheeks, knowing they were probably turning a dark, bruise-like blue, Dennis figured he wasn’t very good at hiding the feeling.

Reluctantly, he looked back.

“No. I just… it’s been a stressful few days, Lieutenant.”

“You're tellin’ me, kid,” he grumbled, but not unkindly. For everyone involved, the past couple days had been hard. “But you can't bottle that up inside, ‘til you explode at each other. If that’d gone on any longer you'd be feelin’ even more guilty than I guess you already are. So… talk about it. What exactly has got you this way?”

A multitude of factors, if they were being honest. But Hank didn’t care for long-winded, flowery explanations. He was one for facts, not half-truths and certainly not lies.

Being inherently honest, by default, tended to make one a poor liar.

Abashed, Dennis tucked his free hand into his jacket pocket. The other continued to prop the hood up. “It’s hard to - pinpoint. If I had to say, I’d guess it’s… worry. We haven’t been making much progress in the deviancy investigation. CyberLife hasn’t said as much, but… their keeping us in suspense is keeping our objectives… obfuscated.”

At a second glance, seeing the man’s distinctly-flat reaction, he added, “I don’t know. Sir.”

Much as he felt like cursing, _a la_ Gavin Reed, he knew his supervisor wouldn’t approve.

“You don't know? Not one thing, you can specifically say has been causin’ you stress.” Hank said dubiously, but not harsh as before. More concerned, if anything. “C'mon, Dennis. I get this whole thing has been stressful as hell, but I've never seen you do somethin’ like that. To Nick, of all people.”  

That was just it: Dennis honestly once thought he was incapable of it. Yes, there were times in the recent past he had worried, maybe gotten snippy and short of temper. But never had he taken it out on his partners. It wasn’t what they were there for. Yet there he had gone, dabbling in spontaneous abuse.

“I can’t describe it as anything besides worry, sir. After what… almost happened…” Dropping his gaze, Dennis didn’t put the incident to words. He wasn’t there. All he had felt was the reverb. And it hadn’t felt nice. “I’m worried for him. But I can’t… discern why. I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t want him to hurt himself again. If Connor hadn’t been there, done what he had…”

Out of words, he trailed off again, hoping he conveyed enough regret with a sheepish glance.

He didn’t like discovering this about himself anymore than Hank did.

“Kid… listen, I get bein’ worried about him. I am, too. But what happened, it's already happened, and he got out of it with some help. You can't start - beatin’ yourself up because of this.” Hank gestured toward the door, where Nick and Connor were with Sumo - no different than last they had visited. “He's doin’ just fine in there right now. So you can stop drivin’ yourself crazy.”

Stop, before he could really start to. Perhaps it had taken a day to sink in.

Even if the sensation was newfound, it didn’t mean he had to cave to it. Already he had put up with the demands of policework, weathering the spats of incompatibility without too much drama. Today didn’t need to be the beginning of something bad.

“I understand. I’m sorry for… bringing it along. The taxi ride just made me think of it in the wrong light. We only meant to see what was delaying you. Not fight on your doorstep.”

“It’s okay. Just a part of bein’ brothers, the occasional spat.” Hank took the apology with that acknowledgement, nodding toward the car again. “Now, you gonna help me with this, or what?”

The abrupt change in subject was as welcome as it wasn’t.

Dennis blushed again, but this bout of embarrassment was far easier to stomach. “Um… or what, sir? I’m not rated to fix automobiles.”

“Sure, you ain't, and I'm not too qualified for this, either. But something tells me…” Hank trailed off, looking back at the door, then to Dennis again, motioning with a wrench. “You'll be some better help than those two. Like always.”

——-

The apology took less time than fixing the Buick did. In part, it was the sight of his taller partner sparing Sumo unabashed affection in equal measure. The giant dog didn’t break from his game of tug-of-war. Rather than fight, he elected to sprawl and simply hang on.

Pulling one way, then the next, Nick seemed to be on the verge of amused surrender. “Sumo, stop! Look at him, Dennis, he's so cute… but such a lazy boy.”

Teeth clamped around the short braided cord, Sumo’s eyebrows perked up at spotting the aforementioned android. His tail started thumping against the floor.

Watching from the corner of the hallway, Connor spared the moment a half smile. As yet, he had kept his affections to a disciplinary minimum. “Is the car repaired?”

Shrugging off his lighter coat in favor of the heavier counterpart, Hank shook his head. “As much as it can be. Now c’mon. Fowler’s probably holdin’ off half the office, wonderin’ where the hell you three are.”

“You overestimate our popularity, Lieutenant.”

“Hmph. I wish I did.”

Nick pouted, wrapping an arm around Sumo instead of continuing with the game, as if he was going to make them physically remove him from the dog. “He's so warm, though…”

“He’s got a girlfriend keeping him good there, kid. Don’t worry.”

Dennis stopped short of petting the dog, one eyebrow almost reaching his hairline, it went so high. “Say again?”

Scoffing at their unanimous uncomprehending expressions, Hank buttoned his coat up. “Neighborhood bitch has been sniffin’ around again. I’ve been leaving bags of garbage out. That was a mistake.”

Up in a flash, Nick's eyes went wide with excitement. “There's another dog? Can we see her? Where is she? Can she live here, Hank?”

“Stop.” Holding up a hand just to emphasize the command, Anderson frowned. “She’s a stray, Nick. As in she lives on the streets, does her own thing. I’m barely gone enough to make sure Sumo doesn’t have accidents or go hungry. I don’t mean to be a downer, but she wouldn’t come if you dropped a bag of biscuits in front of her. Dogs that aren’t socialized don’t make great pets.”

“Oh. Well…” Nick sighed and shrugged, leaning down to give Sumo one last pet instead. “Maybe we'll see her sometime around, then. Even if she won't come inside.”

“Shouldn’t be. The garbage is in the can, where it belongs.” Boots traded for drier footwear, Hank opened the door. “Get your apology in quick, Den. We have places to be.”

 _Now?_ Managing not to flinch, Dennis went for another abashed glance away.

“It's… it's okay, Dennis.” Nick mumbled, giving him a weak smile. “I understand.”

He could already hear Anderson saying that wasn’t good enough. And he didn’t need to have an apology forced out of him like Connor had.

Still looking away, he opened a comm, LED winking yellow. There was no need to mince words.

_No, it’s not, Nick. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that. I’m sorry._

_Okay. I forgive you, Dennis, I know things have been really stressful for you. It'll… it'll be okay, I'm sure. Eventually._

Just like that. It almost made him want to start up on a new tangent if questioning. His partner was a real paradox. How was it possible to be so persistently terrified, so apprehensive of the world at large, and yet still be so forgiving in the same instance?

He didn’t think he would forgive himself so easily.

But in the meantime, he would do well not to let temper get the better of him.

It didn’t know what it was talking about, anyway.


End file.
